


Triple Dare

by CaraJayne



Category: Justin Bieber (Musician)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Love/Hate, Romance, Wealth, mature - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 20:00:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15781074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaraJayne/pseuds/CaraJayne
Summary: Evangeline "Evie" James. 20. The more sarcastic-than-thou youngest daughter of the owner of one of the most influential Fashion Companies in the world, House Of Jacques. Will inherit billions. Practically Hollywood royalty thanks to her movie star father and designer mother. Member of the exceptionally and internationally known James family. Never had to work a day in her life. But she chooses to because she is aware of the blessed life she lives and the influence she possesses.Justin Bieber. 22. I.Q. so high,Snoop Dogg is jealous. Self-made billionaire. Pop prince. Musically gifted. Producer. Music royalty in his own right.  Reformed "bad boy". Still has a thing for one night stands that he can't quite shake off. Wreaks of affluence. Views the paparazzi as public enemy #1. Knows EXACTLY what it's like to have to wear hand-me-downs asked for from neighbors that are 3 sizes too big because of lack of cash. Was poor for more than half of his life. Occasional but expert dick.Two separate people who have barely ever given each other the time of day. That is....until they have to.





	Triple Dare

Evangeline's P.O.V.

"That's bullshit and you know it," I said rolling my eyes. You see, my older brother was really starting to piss me off. His conspiracy theories that he's so hellbent on debunking will seriously be the death of me. "Evie, just hear me out, ok?" Here it comes.

"Do you honestly think that Avril Lavigne hasn't been cloned? Like that theory seemed pretty convincing to me. I mean...those pictures-"

"Oh for fuck's sake, you're 24 Johnny! And what I've been telling you for the past forty-five minutes is that I don't care."

While he kept his dick hard with theories, I turned up the volume on the 90-inch smart T.V. hanging on one of our cream-colored living room walls. Johnny gets off (sorta) on this type of stuff. Theories, mysteries, hidden secrets, the whole shebang. When we were kids it was fun to play the guessing game and wonder about those theories, deciding whether there was truth to them or not. Now? Not so much. For me at least. He's still having the time of his life being the knockoff Nancy Drew.

"Fine, be a boring bitch, E. See you at the charity ball, mom and dad expect you to be in attendance. Ciao!" he yelled making his way down the hall adjacent to me.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," I muttered absentmindedly.

Now, every year my parents held this charity ball that helps to raise money for those in need. AIDS patients, poverty-stricken areas, mental health patients. You get it. They make my siblings and I go because we "need to get a taste of the world outside the frivolous privilege that you were lucky to be born into"

Fair point but my mastered practice of grade-A reluctance could get the better of me. It's not that I didn't want to help my parents be the United Mother Theresa, because I genuinely do care about these causes. It's just the people and the socializing that comes with dressing up in head-to-toe designer wear (thanks mom) to stand in a room full of wealthy and well-known bodies. Most of which could give a rat's ass about the causes and are likely looking for ways to make connections or make themselves look good for the press.

And these are the people I have to fake laughter with and smile 'till my cheeks hurt....... for 4 hours straight. What was that line again? In that Tom Hanks movie...? Ah! Right, it's, "Life's like a box of chocolate, you never know-'" Ok, let me just cut to the chase. Life's an unexpected bitch. But not when you're rich, they say.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>2 hours later <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

By the time I had finished getting my dress on and my make up done, my big sis, Kat had come knocking on my room door.

"Ok bitch, this is a look," she said upon seeing me.

My snow-white, floor-length Jacques original dress hugged all the right curves of my toned and slender build. The darkened, blush lip color was heaven sent. My sister should know. I mean, she only she stole it from me every fourteen minutes. I grabbed my black Givenchy clutch and followed behind Kat, she was draped in a wine-red, long-sleeved, Stella McCartney cutout gown.

"Stella? Bold. Mom will be thrilled, I'm sure" I teased. Mom hated Stella. Thought her designs were barely fashion forward.

"Fuck off, baby sis thought this one was cute" she retorted as we made our way down one of the spiral staircases. That made me snicker. We walked in near silence as the clicking of our heels against our tile floors were the only things that broke it. We finally reached the front door, stepping outside and being met by our middle-aged chauffeur, Ned, leaning against the limo.

"Good evening Ned," my sister and I said in unison,"how've you been" I inquired. "Good evening ladies and I'm alright, Evie, thank you."

The evening air was refreshing. A bit chilly considering it's almost winter here in New York, but wonderful. My little moment was cut short by my pushy sister telling me to get inside our ride.

"Hey, is Johnny gonna drive there on his own orrr..." I had just realized that our brother, Sherlock didn't exactly tell me how he was getting there or if he was even going at all.

"Johnny's going with one of his friends, he'll be there" Kat replied while reapplying her lipstick and looking into her travel-sized compact mirror.

We settled in a comfortable silence, making little to no conversation here and there during the 20-minute ride to the ball.

"We're here ladies," said Ned, before he got out of the car to open the door for us. He really doesn't need to even though he works for us (ugh! I hate thinking or saying things like that) and we protest every time he does but he insists. He's just sweet like that.

We stepped out on the red carpet, yes there's a red carpet at my parents' charity event, (go big or go home baby was always their motto) and we were met by blinding, flashing lights. If you were epileptic, this was not the place for you, babe.

Once we got past the screams, yells, and questions aimed at us by the intrusive and barricaded paparazzi, we simultaneously let out a breath of relief that neither of us seemed to know we were holding. The chandeliers that dotted the shiny and gilded ceiling of the magnificent hall we had grown used never ceased to amaze us. Yeah, our family was loaded beyond reason but we were always raised to be appreciative and aware of what we have.

Kat and I linked arms as we walked past and greeted several guests ranging from Blake Lively and her husband Ryan, Barack and Michelle Obama, Helena Bonham-Carter and Steven Spielberg, Jay-Z and Beyoncé who were sitting on the same table as Arnold Schwarzenegger and one of his sons. Hell, even Ariana Grande was here.

As we approached the table number one, the table our parents were sitting on, our mother, Reese, was the first to spot us. Her wide smile slowly turned to a grimace as we got closer and that's when I started cackling. Her eyes were on Kat or more specifically, who she was wearing.

"Katerina, Lo juro por Dios-" (Katerina, I swear to God-), our mother started

"-Mamá, sé lo que vas a decir, but I'm already here so just please let me wear it" (Mom I already know what you're going to say, but I'm already here so just please let me wear it), my sister implored.

"Well...it's not the worst I've ever seen and Evie has dressed tot he nines so I'll let you slide" she replied with a trace of a smile. Kat was pleased and celebrated with a small fist bump to the air in victory. We both hugged and kissed our mother on the cheek after her mini "win".

But while that was happening my dad, Davis and I were trying (and failing) to hide our amusement of the whole situation. Shit was hilarious and we both knew it.

"Hey, old man," I say while giving my dad a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Ha Ha, hilarious, I'm aging like fine wine and you will deal"

"Whatever makes you sleep at night, Pa" I chuckle. That earned me an eye roll from him.

We were about an hour in and there was still no sign of Johnny. I was thinking about texting him but then thought against it because I didn't know if he was still driving or not. God must've read my mind because what didn't even feel like fifteen minutes later, Johnny, clad in a black Armani suit, made his through the door, with a tall, masculine figure that had a clean-cut tux that looked to be Tom Ford tuxedo, trailing behind him. I realized that people's had now been eyes were following Johnny's friend. As they got closer to our table they became clearer. From what I could tell, his friend seemed to be quite the looker. As a matter of fact, he was... beautiful as... Greek god beautiful... and that was from my observation in dim lighting. But he looked insanely familiar...too familiar I know this guy's face...... wait...is that-....oh shit....it is. Justin fucking Bieber. Great.


End file.
